A Conversation
by Legolas Nightson
Summary: A conversation between Raistlin and Dalamar during Dragons of Summer Flame. RAISTLIN/DALAMAR SLASH!!! Stay away if you disapprove.


Hi y'all! I finally got round to writing more fanfiction! Yay! This is Raistlin/Dalamar, so a slash warning is in order. To whit: WARNING: Slash. Do not read this if this offends or squicks you. You have been warned. This story contains a very Nasty!Raistlin, and a Dalamar I just want to hug until his eyes pop out! But then, I want to do that to ANY type of Dalamar. ^_^.  
  
This was inspired by a bit in Dragons of Summer Flame, when Tas was saying something about not being allowed in on a conversation between Raistlin and Dalamar when Raist cam back. I can't remember the exact quote, but when I find it, you'll be the first to know! ^_~  
  
The next fic I write will be a happy slash, I promise. I was.. Kinda in a mood when I wrote this..  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
The room is silent as two mages sit together, Raistlin's eyes watching his former apprentice for any sign that he may begin to talk. Dalamar, for his part, is staring at the floor by his feet, holding onto a glass of Elven wine which he is not drinking. The silence doesn't make Raistlin uneasy as it does the Dark Elf, but with the end of the world already discussed, what else was there to talk about? Raistlin was afraid he knew all too well.  
  
Dalamar lifts his eyes to Raistlin's unwavering golden gaze. "Why didn't She kill you?" he asks, in a low, shadowy whisper. His face betrays no emotion, but Raistlin can hear the venomous undertones in Dalamar's musical voice.  
  
"I do not know for certain," Raistlin answers truthfully, "but I suppose that wouldn't have been a suitable enough punishment for someone who would dare defy Her."  
  
Dalamar keeps his eyes fixed on Raistlin's, soundlessly contemplating the return of the powerful wizard. "You left Crysania to die," he states.  
  
"And she recovered," Raistlin replies, as coolly as the other made the statement.  
  
"A fine way to treat someone you were supposed to have loved."  
  
"I do not believe it is your place to comment on that particular topic, considering the untimely demise of my half sister."  
  
The area around Dalamar's eyes changes as he glares at his Shalafi. "I never claimed to love Kitiara," he spits. "And taking into consideration the circumstances, her demise was not at all 'untimely'."  
  
Raistlin allows a smirk to crawl onto his lips. "Possibly not," he concedes.  
  
Dalamar looks out of the window, at the sky beyond, trying not to imagine the blood red the sky would be if they failed in their mission. "Did you love Crysania?" he asks quietly, almost timidly, as if he may not really want to know the answer.  
  
Raistlin shuts his eyes. Should he inform the Dark Elf of his greatest weakness, leaving himself open to an attack from this person he knew he could not entirely trust? When he looks upon the Dark Elf again, it is with complete honesty. "Yes."  
  
Dalamar meets his gaze again, all malice gone. "You said you loved me, once."  
  
Raistlin still doesn't break eye contact. After a while, he speaks. "I lied." The Archmage watches as Dalamar quickly changes his sudden hurt into malicious anger. "You were useful, Dalamar," Raistlin continues. "But I never loved you. Our relationship was not all that different from the one you shared with my sister. It was built entirely upon lust and control." As he scrutinizes Dalamar with cold golden eyes, he can tell that every word is like a twist of the knife he pushed into his apprentice's chest when he left him to challenge Takhisis.  
  
Dalamar quickly downed his wine and, placing the empty glass on the large oak table in the study, went to stand by the window; turning his back on the room's other occupant.  
  
It was common knowledge that Elves were said to move like cats, and Raistlin was inclined to agree. However, he had always compared Dalamar's movements to those of a snake; graceful, yet potentially treacherous. One quick strike would mean you were dead. It was the underlying danger that had attracted the cold hearted "Shalafi" to his equally ruthless apprentice.  
  
Supposedly ruthless.  
  
"What about Jenna?" Raistlin asks casually. "Do you love her?"  
  
Dalamar just shakes his head, not trusting himself to keep the quiver out of his voice. He is looking at his feet again now, a small frown on his face. He is angry, but he is not sure at whom this anger should be directed at. Himself, for being weak, standing here now struggling to keep tears from falling, or at Raistlin, for making him love him, then telling him now that it - that /he/ - means nothing to the Archmage. It was true that Dalamar didn't love Jenna, that he never had done. But there was more to it.  
  
He couldn't love Jenna. He found that he could love no one but Raistlin.  
  
/Damn him!/  
  
Raistlin moves from his chair to stand behind Dalamar. Very close behind him. He runs his fingers through the others' soft black hair, strands like silk slipping around his hands. Looking forward, following Dalamar's gaze out of the window, Raistlin puts his lips close to the delicate point of an Elven ear.  
  
"You're mine," he whispers softly, feeling the smaller figure shudder as hot breath flows over the sensitive tip of his ear. "I can do whatever I like with you - to you- and you'll never do a thing against me because you /love me/." He speaks the last two words with scorn in his voice. Keeping one hand tangled in Dalamar's hair, Raistlin slides the other down the front of the Elf's body. As he moves it, he licks the very tip of the ear, not missing the small moan from his former apprentice. Raistlin paused in his assault of Dalamar's ear to smirk to himself, enjoying the control he had over the other.  
  
Dalamar twists in Raistlin's grasp, turning around to face him. Their faces are close enough for one to kiss the other, but Raistlin notices the look in Dalamar's eyes, and seems taken aback. Dalamar speaks, and Raistlin can feel his breath on his own thin lips.  
  
"I don't belong to you. I belong to no one."  
  
Pushing past his ex-lover, Dalamar leaves the room, not once looking back to see the grim regret on Raistlin's gaunt face.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
Please, I NEEEEEEEEED Feedback. No flames, please. They'll just be ignored anyway, what's the point? 


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